


Where the Clouds are Far Behind

by MarshmallowNerd



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Domestic Avengers, F/M, Family, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:03:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8686879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowNerd/pseuds/MarshmallowNerd
Summary: He once likened coming home to her to the first time using a colored television set. Once you discover the wonder of it, you never want to go back to the loneliness of black and white.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses. I wanted family fluff.

She tried not to let it trouble her too much. After all, it had been her own decision to not participate in the field, and all things considered, she didn’t regret it. Besides, it wasn’t as though she were alone, waiting in the deafening silence of her home. In fact, a good amount of her time had been spent with Natasha, who was unquestionably restless about having to be benched as well. Even Sam had stopped by to drop off lunch for them, and seeing as he still hadn’t left eight hours later, it was clearly an excuse to check on them both.

Despite the company, though, there was simply no way to help the bubble of apprehension that grew in the air whenever a mission meant to last only until mid-afternoon became a two day absence. No amount of cooking, or cleaning (as she was presently doing), or listening to her friends’ banter could fully distract her from it.

As Wanda delved deeper into her thoughts, she nearly missed the sound of a soft crash in the adjacent living room behind her. She didn’t bother to turn around when a warm chuckle from Natasha followed.

“It’s OK, baby. Just try again,” the former spy encouraged the tiny redhead at her side. She was hunched over the low coffee table in the center of the den, and baby James had just begun helping her pick up his toys. It was proving to be a challenge, given how he wasn’t quite tall enough yet to reach inside the bins atop the table. But he was every bit as strong-willed as his parents, and obediently reclaimed the noisy artifact for another attempt at tossing it into its designated bin.  

They had nearly completed cleaning everything when Natasha suddenly felt something slam against the back of her legs. She looked to what had struck her as best she could with her stomach beginning to swell around James’ unborn brother. “Have you been helped?” she asked playfully once she recognized the small figure using her for support to stand.

The toddler only grinned widely at her, babbling madly. Her smile then erupted into shrieks of laughter when Natasha straightened, swinging the baby girl up in the air before settling her on her hip. “What was that, little munchkin?”

The toddler struggled to answer between her own giggles and the continuous distraction of Wanda moving about in the kitchen. Finally, she managed something akin to “mama” a few times as she reached forward, nearly falling right out of Natasha’s arms as she did.

“Oh, what a great idea!” Natasha declared. “Let’s go bother her. Come on, boys.”

Wanda looked up from her work of shoveling dinner leftovers into plastic containers, feigning incredulity at Natasha’s proposition. “I’m sorry, ‘bother me’?”

Natasha looked anything but sorry as she carried the little girl over to Wanda’s side, with the pitter-patter of baby James and his canine companion following her every step. “What can I say? She’s very persuasive.”

“Mama,” the little girl repeated, reaching for Wanda.

“Hi, sweetheart.” The girl’s mother eagerly took her from Natasha, settling her comfortably on her hip so as to have a free hand to resume her duty of cleaning up after dinner.

Sam discovered them just then, his phone still in hand from when he had been taking a call in the other room. “Gee, Natasha,” was his greeting as he came over to lean against the breakfast bar between them. “You’re really trying to turn Glinda into the ultimate homemaker, aren’t you? What would Steve say if he found out he was being replaced?”

“Why should I care? We’re not married anymore,” Natasha retorted, wrapping her arms around Wanda’s shoulders as best she could when her abdomen was beginning to expand the way it was. “From now on, I’m married to Wanda. James and I were going to move in with her as soon as you left.”

Sam hung his head, as if in mourning. “I’m sorry, Nat, I can’t accept that. We all know I’d be the Human Heat Sponge’s backup choice, and I’m not interested in waking up as a frozen fudge pop every day.”

Natasha had little empathy for him, rather quirked her eyebrow with the same brooding coolness of her Black Widow persona. Though that rough exterior melted quickly with a few simple tugs at the hem of her blouse. “Ana, house?” James squeaked.

“No, baby. We’re not actually going to Tatiana’s house. Unless you want us to,” she added, raising her eyebrows at Wanda.

Wanda hummed, looking to her baby girl. “Well, what do you think, sweetheart? Will Mama’s kitty get along with Dodger?”

With all eyes on her for an answer, Tatiana only smiled bashfully, ducking her perfectly round face to hide in her mother’s neck.

“Oh, how adorably precious,” Sam remarked flatly. Then he straightened, reaching over the breakfast bar to steal the girl. “Come here, little morsel. If you’re going to be here a while, we might as well get to that movie we found.”

Natasha tensed at his suggestion, watching him travel with Tatiana to the living room, and James following them in excitement at the promise of a movie with his ‘fun uncle’. “Nothing like _Children of the Corn_!”

“Why not?” Sam said with a bit of a groan as he pulled James up onto the sofa, bringing the abnormally heavy toddler (thanks, super-serum) to sit in his lap with Tatiana. “The worst bit is that diner scene. And I can tell them it’s just another Friday night at Denny’s.”

Natasha was not amused. “Why are you so intent on showing them those movies? Especially the one about kids murdering adults? You don’t see _anything_ wrong with advocating that to the children of Black Widow and the Winter Soldier?”

The responding silence alone was enough to make Wanda giggle at the thought that had evidently never crossed his mind. “Good point,” Sam finally stated, switching the screen to something vastly more lighthearted, complete with brightly-colored bears with hearts on their bellies.

Natasha’s eyebrow quirked again, this time smugly in victory, as she went to help Wanda clean around the kitchen. She was just about to say something to her companion when Sam suddenly cried out, clearly exaggerating his reaction to the villain zapping people with green light for the delight of the kids in his lap. “Ah, no! This is even worse, Nat. They’re turning the kids into YouTube commenters!”

“Oh, stop!” Natasha huffed.

Once again, the antics of her two friends were so genuinely entertaining, Wanda’s amusement evolved into gratitude as she heard it evoke laughter from her daughter (even though the kids probably didn’t understand the meaning behind half of Sam’s sayings). She appreciated his ability to keep the children occupied while their mothers’ focus kept wandering elsewhere. It almost kept an illusion that everything was normal (or as normal as it could be for the Avengers) despite the palpable tension in her stomach reminding her that it _wasn’t._ Wanda found herself both thankful for the distraction, and patronized by it, because it was doing little to bring Steve and Bucky any closer home.

Natasha may have retired from her life as a spy, but she still retained the observance of one. As she noticed the other woman’s internal conflict, she brought herself to close to the other woman’s side, dropping her head on her shoulder. “You’ve been rather quiet, _koldun'ya_.”

Wanda let her head rest against Natasha’s, pretending to have more interest in scrubbing some bits of stubborn food off the edge of a pan. “Just getting impatient, I think. There has really been no news?”

Natasha’s responsive smile was bitter. “No. Wilson would’ve let us know,” she said with a nod to the phone that had been left abandoned on the breakfast bar. The distress in her features deepened when Wanda gave a heavy sigh. “I wish I could tell you it gets easier. Hell, I was beginning to forget how hard it can be, just waiting.”

“I’m fine,” Wanda insisted, even though she actually felt anything but. She was worried about her husband, yes, but it was another matter completely that she was so unbelievably _tired_ , and at the fault of this helpless bubble in her chest. She hadn’t even slept for more than an hour the night before, too busy pacing around their home fretting about the two super-soldiers, and fearing the possibility that if she _did_ sleep while under so much stress, it would invite one of her nightmares. They had become less common after Tatiana was born some fourteen months ago, but she still hadn’t wanted to take the risk of her powers lashing out while she was trapped in the dark corners of her subconscious without Bucky there to intervene.

Tatiana hadn’t taken the absence much better. She often had difficulty sleeping for a consecutive eight hours, but that night especially she seemed inconsolable. It was no comfort to her mother to know only Bucky could soothe her in such times, due to the surreal coolness of his metal arm against her flushed skin after crying so much.

“I know, _malyutka_. I miss him too,” Wanda had murmured, feeling so inconceivably _useless_ for it as Ana sobbed harder against her ear despite all her mother did to calm her. She just didn’t have the same embrace as Bucky. It was outside of their usual routine, and Ana was simply frustrated. Wanda knew that. She could accept it, even if it made her chest constrict even tighter than it already had.

Now though, sleep seemed a bit more promising for Tatiana, since she had tired herself so in her determination to keep up with her three-year-old god-brother. When the movie with Sam finished, she was significantly quieter and her movements sluggish. It was a clear indication she was ready for her bed, and it seemed too cruel to keep her from it much longer.

“You’re welcome to stay the night, if it’s easier,” Natasha offered, even though Wanda was already heading to the front door with Ana tucked into her shoulder once again. “Turn this into the first family sleepover or something.”

Wanda smiled at the suggestion, and was sincerely tempted for a moment. It was enough to be kept up with concerns for her husband, and a man she considered to be a second brother. It would definitely be no help to have her anxiety tripled by the thought of Natasha, pregnant and alone with only baby James and Dodger for company. But amidst so much stress and uneasiness, a rather big part of her was still alight with hope that they would be home _soon_. And after such an unexpectedly long mission, she knew her James would want to be in the comfort of his own home.

Afraid of coming across as naïve for her optimism given the life they lived, Wanda politely excused her desire to be home with, “Thank you, but we still need to feed Magda.”

Natasha didn’t press further, which didn’t go unappreciated. Instead, the glowing mother tucked her son close to her side and gently encouraged him to say good-bye to the girls. Young James Rogers merely held his chubby hand out in the semblance of a wave farewell. “Bye-bye, Ana.”

Tatiana tried to imitate the three-year-old’s gesture to the best of her ability, which included saying bye to herself. Then the adults all bid their good-byes, with Sam escorting the girls back to their suite. Fortunately, said home was just a floor above Natasha’s, making for a short trip.

Nevertheless, Sam practically became an entirely different person as he stalled their trip in the small lobby area between the front door and the elevator. His expression was grave and humorless, a stark contrast to the previous few hours of playful spirit. “You two going to be alright, waiting on your own?”

Now Wanda felt the need to be light-hearted, to balance out the tension. “Of course. You know if anything happens, Magda will scare it off.”

He didn’t seem any less troubled, and it was unsettling to see _him_ , of all people, hesitant to speak. “You know…that call I got before the parade of Technicolor fluff was from Stark, right?”

Wanda froze slightly under the sudden pressure of equal hope and despair knotting in her stomach. Stark was their self-appointed inside eye at Headquarters, constantly sending them updates on missions, even when Hill told him not to. _Which doesn’t necessarily mean anything_ , the witch told herself. _He’s fine. They’re both fine._

_I should’ve gone with them._

“He says they rang for an extraction team sometime around lunch today,” Sam continued when he was met with empty silence. “I was going to mention it before, but then I thought…it might’ve been obvious.”

“Yes, right. I figured,” Wanda agreed hastily. The need for an extraction team meant that the mission had taken a poor turn, which she had indeed suspected when there had been no sign of their return the previous evening. Still, it left her rather unsettled to have her suspicions confirmed, and it must’ve shone, for Tatiana uttered a small sound of alarm in response to being squeezed. It shouldn’t have even been a big deal. If anything, the addition of an extraction team was a blatant hint that they were closer to heading home.

With a shake of his head, the easygoing version of Sam suddenly returned. “I’m sure they’re fine. I mean, two super-soldiers that have already spent what—seventy years chasing after each other? We got nothing to worry about.”

The fact that he had been so bothered about directly telling her the mission had gone awry spoke differently. Regardless though, Wanda smiled warmly at him. “Thank you, for all your help today.”

“Anytime.” Sam shuffled backwards, feigning a nervous look at what lurked behind the door. “Now, I’m going to head back and check on Romanoff one more time before Cujo-Kitty realizes I’m here.”

“Alright,” Wanda laughed at the newest nickname, watching as Sam left altogether before retreating into the cozy familiarity of her home. Sure enough, her jet-black pet was waiting for her in the entryway, meowing irritably. Wanda obediently went about their usual nightly routine, promptly feeding the cat and then putting Tatiana in a bath.

Wanda felt too guilty about potentially sending her to bed before she could see her father, so she took her sweet time during Ana’s bath. She even let her fingers dance over the surface of the water, her powers compelling a thin stream of water to follow her movements, much to the amusement of her baby girl. She usually refrained from using her magic in front of Tatiana, not wanting to risk the girl getting any ideas about recreating the first night they realized she had inherited her own abilities, and nearly blown Steve and Sam’s minds in the process (literally). But this was the first time Bucky was so late to come home since Ana’s birth, and the ability to make her daughter laugh so brightly was among very few effective distractions from the feeling of utter helplessness that arose in each minute not knowing where he was, or what was keeping him.

Tatiana’s noisy yawn pulled her out of her reverie, instantly dissolving the red wisps between them. “Sorry, sweetheart,” Wanda whispered upon realizing she had let Ana sit in the water too long, its touch undoubtedly cold against her soft, sensitive skin. Wanda might have over-compensated for it with how quickly she got the little girl toweled dry and dressed for bed. Regardless, Ana was nearly asleep on her feet by the time they finished. Though that didn’t stop her from asking about her father a few more times.

Normally, Wanda wouldn’t want to encourage her daughter to stall sleep (she was all too familiar, firsthand, as to how that could backfire), but tonight seemed to be a time for exceptions. So, she put on Tatiana’s favorite movie and rocked her in the recliner in their living room.

Wanda tried to focus on their thirteenth re-watch of _The Wizard of Oz_ , truly. It was the closest she came to keeping her fretful thoughts from swelling even more, like a mistreated wound. But even the film itself drew her attention back to Bucky, as its sepia environment suddenly exploded with vibrant colors. She couldn’t help but show a tender smile at the scene, bringing her back to a moment long before Tatiana was born, when they had only started to live at Stark Tower together. He had come home from one of his first missions with the team, the first to leave him truly weary and drained. He had likened coming home to her, then, to finding a sort of shelter after a rough day. Having someone to come home to was apparently akin to the first time he’d used a colored television set; once you discover the wonder of it, you never want to go back to the loneliness of black and white.

Reality suddenly returned in the form of her phone aggressively buzzing from where she had left it on the kitchen counter. Ana grunted in protest as she had to be set aside in order for her mother to stand, leaving her in a pile of blankets on the sofa. Wanda padded over to the counter, reaching her phone just as it began vibrating with a second message. Both were from Natasha.

_They’re back. Stark pushed back their debriefing, so they’re heading up already._

_Yours came looking for you here. I just sent him up._

The witch nearly melted right there. They had made it home. And surely that meant they were alright, right?

Just before she could feed any of her previous worries, she felt a familiar buzzing of her powers latching onto a busy mind nearby. The intensity of what felt like static in her brain was easily recognizable, and an integrated sensation of hope and relief launched her towards the front of the apartment.

She had only made it to the base of the entryway hall when the door’s lock clicked open and revealed he was finally, officially _home_. Wanda spent a moment just uselessly staring, absorbing the sight of him for the first time in what felt like centuries. He had changed back into the faded polo, jeans, and jacket he had left their home in, though now they were rumpled, and part of the shirt was even torn on the side opposite his hidden metal arm. His hair was dirty, and still curled slightly from the humidity of where he’d been. His posture virtually screamed exhaustion.

None of that stopped her.

She nearly _threw_ herself at him, making it across the hall in two large strides to wrap him in her embrace. She practically had to hover off the floor in order to reach his shoulders, but it was worth it to burrow into his neck, seeking comfort the same way Tatiana did with her. Her mind hummed with concern of him being hurt, but the familiar pressure of his flesh arm wrapping around her waist in return promptly dashed that.

“Sorry I’m late,” he rasped into her hair. “It got rough—”

Wanda tenderly shushed him, unwilling to allow him to apologize for what wasn’t his fault. Rather, she clung tighter to him for a heartbeat more before pulling away, framing his face in her hands to study him anew for any injuries earned after such strenuous field work. Surprisingly, he seemed to have attained no lacerations or even bruises at all. The skin along his cheeks was coarse, but that could possibly be from a lack of shaving in the past few days.

He silently let her read him for a few moments, doing the same with her in turn. Rememorizing her face, even though it had only been two days since they had last seen each other. “Natasha said you might not be alone.”

She smiled at that. With a glance over her shoulder, she drew his attention to the small mass curled away from them on the couch. “She wanted to wait up. But she couldn’t even make it to the end of _Over the Rainbow_.”

His grin was something made of pure adoration. It only fractured with a touch of guilt as he wandered closer to the nest of blankets populating the sofa cushion, hiding the dozing mass from view. As he made his way there, even the socially cold Magda meowed in acknowledgement of his return, sniffing his hand as he passed her seat on the sofa’s armrest. Tatiana had tangled herself in one of the blankets, prompting him to work his fingers between her little body and the fluffy brown material, intent on peeling it off of her.

The girl’s mother leaned against the back of the couch, watching fondly as Tatiana stirred at the smallest removal of her topmost layer. As sleepy as she was, little Ana’s face absolutely lit up once she recognized who was in front of her. “Papa!”

She launched herself at him, just as her mother had, and he happily rose to his feet with her hanging from his neck. Though Wanda didn’t miss his small groan as he did, indicating that he _had_ gotten banged up more than he was leading on. “Hi, sweet _malyutka_. Didn’t escape from bed already, did you?”

“No, Papa,” Ana assured seriously, leaning closer into the bend of his metal arm. She was most likely searching for the comfort of its coolness after burrowing herself so deeply into the heat of so many blankets, just as her mother often did. _She’s always so much like her mother_.

Her petite head dropped heavily against the seam of his metal arm, her initial drowsiness creeping back into every tiny muscle. “Eat?”

“No, _malyutka_ , it’s not time to eat breakfast yet,” Bucky told her softly, gently rubbing his free hand over her back as he began to move towards Ana’s room. “Go on back to sleep.”

He suggested something more about visiting the park tomorrow, which Wanda didn’t fully catch since they had nearly reached the next room by then. A flutter of affection rippled through her chest to imagine him finally home, putting their daughter to bed, just as Ana had so desperately wanted the night before. Yet, despite his return, Wanda couldn’t help but notice a fragment of apprehension was still sitting in her stomach. Before she quite realized it, she found herself drifting back towards the plush chair in the room, retaking her seat there and rocking herself as she pondered what was still bothering her. He was home. Safe, and whole. Tired, but definitely intact. She had seen for herself.

She hardly acknowledged him when he returned, now empty-handed. He could notice her upset easily, and directly headed towards her. He made it a point to hold her with his eyes even as he kneeled at her feet, running the thumb of his flesh hand over her knee in a soothing pattern. “Love?”

She didn’t respond, so he continued with the comforting words he thought she needed. “ _Moya lyubov_ , it’s alright. I’m fine. I’m here.”

His hand traveled up to caress her face, now sweeping his thumb just underneath her eye. That seemed to jolt the faraway gloss out of her olive-green irises, wordlessly taking a moment to focus on his face before somewhat mirroring his gesture, pushing some of his hair behind his ear. Her brow furrowed in puzzlement when the nail of her thumb snagged on something. She repeated the motion once more in order to relocate whatever she had found, hooking it between her fingers.

With the utmost care, she peeled the rest of the cybernetic mesh away from his face, receiving some help as he pulled his head back some. With the disguise fully shed, the true extent of the mission’s toll was made clear, reflecting in Wanda’s horrified whisper, “Oh, James….”

His face was covered in dried blood, with two particularly harsh scrapes stemming from his nose and above his left eye, both trailing down to his jaw. His forehead was roughly scraped as well, and there was an angry splotch on his cheek that was rapidly turning black. However, he only winced when he saw something akin to fear flash over Wanda’s eyes. “It looks worse than it is. I only put the mask on so it wouldn’t scare Ana.”

“How bad is it, then?”

“Nothing that won’t be gone by morning,” he answered quietly. “Might still be sore, at worst.”

She could buy that. The serum given to him by Hydra was weaker than Steve’s, but on several previous missions, had proved itself capable of making short work healing bad bruises and even fractured bones. That wasn’t to say that made the sight any more bearable, though.

He winced again at her palpable distress, his right hand squeezing her arm. “It’s alright, love. It’s all mine.”

Her brows knitted even tighter together at the morbid relief in his voice. She knew precisely what he was referring to as well, even without any explicit explanation. Given their pasts, with the blood of so many strangers spilt between them, the last thing either of them had wanted was to go back into the field and risk more.

Wanda hated to see him so willing to accept bloodshed if it was his own. With a heavy heart, she brought her hands to hold his face, taking care wherever she saw reddish smears. “I should’ve gone with you,” she whimpered.

His flesh hand was back around her wrist, only a shade shy of being _too_ tight. “No, love. There was no way to know about the ambush. You were needed here more. For Natasha, for those soldiers at the VA. For _Ana_.”

She suddenly averted her gaze to their feet, hating whenever he used their daughter to justify his selfless means more than said means themselves. Of course, he had gone back into field work before Ana was born, knowing the Avengers needed any help they could get. It was his first taste of redemption for the Winter Soldier’s atrocities since leaving Hydra. Then Tatiana had been born, and field work became something to make the world safer for her to grow up in. He would never stop fighting for that, especially when the root of so much of her parents’ suffering was still alive and active. Hell, they had even targeted Wanda not long ago, when she was still pregnant with Ana. That definitely haunted him. Made him push himself to keep anything from touching his girls ever again. She couldn’t stop him from fighting so hard for them, and she didn’t want to. Especially in the given moment, where they were both so tired.

So, she settled for pressing her lips tenderly to each laceration marring his face, using the lightest of touches as she followed the trails of dried blood. Wordlessly reassuring him that he was home now. He would be cared for here, and loved here. He usually needed the reminder after baring himself even further to the plague of fighting. And this time, he evidently needed a great deal of reassurance.

He used both arms now to wind around her delicate frame, pulling her closer for him to burrow himself in the soft warmth of her embrace. She was more than willing to return the gesture, twining her own arms around his shoulders and combing through the knotted tendrils of his hair. They were probably smearing dirt and blood into her grey tank top the longer they held each other, but she wasn’t about to question it.

After what simultaneously felt like too long and too brief, his arms were snaking down her back and reaching beneath her legs. “James!” she gasped in concern for his injuries when he lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist solely on instinct. Her protests were only half-hearted, though, given how she hadn’t processed what he was doing until he had already carried her halfway to their room. And with scarcely a sound at that. It wasn’t the first instance where he’d mysteriously gained a second wind because of his girls.

The next thing she knew, Wanda felt herself being deposited atop the cushiony material of their bed. However, she wasn’t sure if it was due to her own fatigue, or just the fondness of having him so close after so long spent apart, but she couldn’t bring herself to physically unwind from around him. She barely even realized she was still latched on to him until she felt the hot burst of air in her ear as he chuckled. “Love, I’m still filthy.”

She did not huff in annoyance when she forced herself to untangle her limbs from around him. Really.

He pressed one, then two kisses to her forehead before disappearing into the adjacent bathroom. She rolled onto her stomach as the surrounding environment fell into another type of quiet, this one significantly less lonely and more peaceful, instead. A sort of domestic serenity that had returned once her family had reunited, now with one sound asleep down the hall, and the other washing up after his rough day (and a third, audibly shoving several trinkets aside so that she could snooze atop the dresser).

The witch mentally promised herself she would only allow her eyes to rest for a few heartbeats, letting only the muted sounds around her fill her senses. But the simple act promptly became a final surrender to her exhaustion, for she found her muscles too heavy to move even when she heard another presence return, their steps transforming from a low creak against tile to a hushed rustle atop carpet. She could even feel her subconscious beginning to pull her under as they drew nearer.

The heavy promise of nothingness was only briefly chased away at the familiar touch of both warmth and coolness (now considerably colder after exposure to a shower of water) lightly digging between the flesh of her shoulders and the knitted fabric covering them, gently peeling away her cardigan. Then that same touch crept under her stomach, pulling away the loose weight of her shorts before travelling upward. The flesh-half of the unique grasp wrapped around her middle, tugging her entire body against the surface of the comforter until her hair met the easily recognizable weight of the pillows she regularly armed their bed with.

She was only pulled from the very edge of sleep once more, at the sudden feeling of the bed dipping under a new weight behind her. Directly at her back was the fold of the comforter as the rest of it was brought over to envelop her overall frame, held in place by a metal embrace around her waist. Lastly, she was pulled once more against the bed until she was fitted snugly against the other form, surrounding her in various sources of warmth and security. Although, what finally carried her into a peaceful oblivion was the line of loving kisses to the back of her neck.

However, just before slipping away to the dark recesses of a much needed sleep, her powers still buzzed in her mind from the reach of another nearby, feeling it gradually grow more settled as the colors of home realigned in the other’s mind. The witch easily shared the feeling, effectively enfolding them both in a final layer of contentment.    

**Author's Note:**

> "Koldun'ya" - witch  
> "Malyutka" - little one
> 
> And because I love procrastinating on my WIP series, let me know if there's anything else you'd like to see from the wonderful Barnes/Rogers families, either below or on Tumblr (@themarshmallownerd)!


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